


movement

by domesticatedantelope (vaultie_glass)



Series: grand larceny [4]
Category: Ride or Die (Visual Novel)
Genre: Balcony Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, handjobs, tipsy kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 20:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultie_glass/pseuds/domesticatedantelope
Summary: The one where things get handsy.





	movement

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober Day 3: public, handjobs
> 
> And kiss requests: 3. Drunk/sloppy kiss and 65. One Small Kiss, Pulling Away For An Instant, Then Devouring Each Other

Mercy only ever dances when she’s drunk.

Three red solo cups drunk, when she’s laughed away her shyness, and he loses her attention to the bass-line of a song she’s played for him a hundred times before. 

The compulsion tempts her little by little: lips tilting up in recognition, the platformed heel of one boot tapping out the downbeat with the ease of a musician, even when her cheeks are flushed with drink. A sway takes her shoulders, then her hips, then her mouth into a smile, and the shape of it says _catch me if you can_ before she weaves away from him, the third of her red solo cups abandoned with her lipstick painting kisses on the rim. She bounds off into the haze of smoke and moving bodies, trailing a string of wild laughter that fades after her, and it doesn’t matter how far Mercy makes him chase her - Logan follows. 

Her nails are gold tonight. They shine like precious metals in the strobe lights, like she’s plucked the stars down from the sky, bright against her fingers and the fabric of her dress. His heartbeat races with the pounding bass, adrenaline and alcohol - he’s a little drunk himself, and Mercy’s in that dress that plunges open down the center of her back, and he’s been craving her between his hands all night.

She doesn’t make it far; it’s more about the catching than the chase, and when she laughs and spins into his arms, he swings her close against his chest with no intention of letting her go. His palms ascend the softness of her thighs, her hips, her waist, sliding one dark braid aside to flutter kisses down her nape. She curls those starlight fingernails along his forearms, and he falls easily into her rhythm.

Mercy learns all things to mastery, striving constantly for _better_, for perfection, driven to compulsion by the part of her that thrives under a challenge and reminds him, dangerously, of himself. Dancing was new to her - like driving, and kissing, and calculus - but music she has always understood. She moves like beat and rhythm given form, carefree like she never gets the chance to be - like it’s just the two of them, dancing to this same song in the kitchen, tipsy on cheap wine instead of rum and cherry coke.

Her braids sway when he leads her through a twirl, and she beams up at him with obvious delight, her smile wide enough to flash the stark white of her teeth, and the tiny gap between them that she tries so hard to hide. Impulse flickers on her face, a sign of trouble if he’s ever seen one, then she’s lifting on her tiptoes, and -

The first kiss misses. Her lips catch the side of his mouth, and he can’t help himself; he _laughs_. She giggles with him, readjusting, steadied by his touch along her jaw as he bends to kiss her properly. Her lips are sweet with rum and soda, and the music drowns her voice out, but he feels the moan she breathes under his mouth, her fingers weaving softly through his hair. 

She’s blushing when they split apart, her eyes on his lips like she wants to kiss him again, and he’s not really in the business of denying Mercy what she wants. He buries a hand at the base of her braid, and she tugs him closer with a reckless disregard for their surroundings, stumbling when he leans into her. His tongue grazes across her lip, his hand against the bare skin of her back. He kisses down her jaw and the soft column of her throat, marking with teeth, seeking the dip between her breasts. She gasps his name, but he all he hears is 808s and crashing bass, and he wants the chance to savor every perfect sound she makes.

Longing colors pink across her cheeks, dark and hungry in her gaze as she drags him down to press her lips against his ear: “_I need you_.” 

He groans, stealing one last urgent kiss before he finds the will to tear himself away. She keeps their fingers laced, letting him guide her toward the stairs, and he swings her out into another spin as they slip through the crowd. 

The music starts to fade, muffled to a throbbing beat beneath their feet. They weave past tangled pairs of strangers, faces hidden in the dim light, ducking unnoticed down an empty hallway.

Logan leads her to the last door, but the knob clicks in his hand. Mercy reaches up and frees a bobby pin from the plaits of her braid, pressing it like contraband against his palm. He blinks down at the pin between his fingers, glancing over at the tipsy mischief on her face before he tugs her by the hand into a crushing kiss. She grins under his mouth, shaking with laughter when his teeth nip softly at her neck.

“Troublemaker.” 

She taps her finger at the corner of his smirk. “I learned from the best.”

Her pin fits neatly through the center of the knob, forcing the lock, and then they’re stepping blindly through a darkened bedroom, guided only by slivers of moonlight that spill through the windows. They fall together in the darkness, and his mouth finds hers, their movement clumsy as they trip across the room. 

He’d know her body deaf and blind, stroking his thumb along the inside of her thigh until she whines and writhes against him. His mouth is spanning kisses down her chest, his hands under her dress and inching higher when she stumbles back against a set of double doors. She casts a glance over her shoulder, flashing him a teasing look before she throws them open and sweeps out into the night air. 

Drunken laughter rises with the pulse of music as the party forges on downstairs. She tilts her face against the breeze, voicing a sigh that makes him picture her sprawled out across their bed; if they were home, he’d have her there already, but they have an empty balcony instead, and Mercy doesn’t seem to mind the difference. 

Logan backs her hips against the railing. Her thighs lift to cradle his waist, and tucked against her heart, he feels like something whole where there were only broken pieces, wired and alive, young and drunk and _god _he’s so in love. 

“Logan,” she breathes, then softer, pleading, peering up at him from under her lashes, “_Baby_. Will you catch me if I fall?”

As if he’d ever let her; he would fall first just to take the impact, and he knows this with the certainty of fact: his name is Logan and he never had a home until Mercedes Castellano and he’ll catch her if she falls. “Always.”

“Good,” she says, and cups his face between her hands, dragging his mouth against her own. “Don’t let me go.”

His fingertips are already adoring the small of her back, curving to squeeze at her hip, every part of her so small and sweet between his palms. He returns his attention to the base of her throat, where his teeth leave sucking kisses, drawing shivers through her body. He feels her thighs around his hips, her fingers drifting up the muscles of his chest. The knot at the back of her neck comes undone with one twist of his fingers, loosing the straps of her dress, and his mouth follows the fabric as it falls to bare her collarbone and breasts. 

Mercy shudders at the eager trail of his kisses. Fingers clutch among his hair, clumsy with urgency, and her head tilts back to grant him better access, moaning when he dips his mouth against a beauty mark at the curve of her breasts.

Movement shifts at his peripheral, drunk college kids crowding the lawn beneath them. They’re alone but very not, and it would only take one upward glance to spot them, and his blood rushes with adrenaline, the heady thrill of risk crashing wild in his pulse, and from the reckless giggle she sings back, she must feel much the same. He latches teeth against her throat and trails his hand past the hem of her dress, rising to meet the silky lace between her legs. 

She’s wet to the touch, slick with want beneath his fingers when he hooks her thong aside, and he bites a groan against her shoulder at the feel of her. She sketches gilded nails down the nape of his neck and pleads a shaky whisper of his name. Her legs spill open to his touch, welcoming the slow roll of his fingertips as she leans against his hand, trusting her weight to his hold.

He glides two fingers down around her clit, and her hips seize against him, pressing at the stiff length of his cock; even that cursory touch makes his head spin. His thumb charts lazy shapes against the slick folds of her sex, fingers tracing down and edging in, his mouth sucking a love-bite at the hollow of her throat. 

He’s just starting to find a steady rhythm when he feels her hands against his stomach, looping into the waist of his jeans. She works them open, frees his cock against her palm, curls a loving grip around him that makes spools of pleasure spiral down at the base of his spine. “Ah-” He shivers, laughing. “_Almacita_…”

She whines and stretches up to kiss him, her moans a muffled sound against his lips. The muscles of her thighs jump as she grinds into his touch. Every lift and downward stroke of slender fingers reaves a current through his nerves, her thumb and index kneading perfect pressure just beneath the head of his cock. His hand stutters between her thighs, knocked out of rhythm by the dizzying sensation of her touch, and she whimpers vaguely in complaint.

“Logaaaan,” she moans. “I _need _you.”

He chuckles, nudging reassuring kisses down her neck. “I’ve got you.” He closes his lips at the dark of a bite on her shoulder, his fingers working slowly in to fill her, and she arches as he starts to crook them. Her gasp splits the sound of the music and the droning chatter of voices below, fading off into a moan that makes his cock twitch in her grasp. 

“_Baby_-!” She tosses her head back, swinging the tails of her braids. Her body shakes against him, hips rolling to take him deeper, nonsense gospel falling apart at her lips. He prods his fingertips along the cross of nerves that make her shudder, and he can feel the tension wound in every muscle of her body, urging her across that line.

His hand cradles the slender column of her neck, and he sinks a frantic kiss against her lips as she sobs and falls apart. The pulse of her around his fingers drags a zigzag tremble up his spine, her body shaking in his arms, jerking through the shivers of sensation. 

Mercy is a marvel when she comes. Like stars at supernova, brilliant and blinding, and he thinks he’ll never tire of the bliss that washes soft across her features. Her nails bite crescents at his sides, her voice a broken, fraying sigh, and as she starts to float back down, she’s moaning “_love you, love you, love you_,” on her breath.

“Always,” he says again, the same unwavering promise he intends to tell her every day. His hips twitch as her hand trails down into a gentle squeeze, and she plants messy kisses at the contours of his sternum, her fingers still unsteady in the wake of coming. She teases with a circle of her fingertips, then sinks a firmer grip around him, and heat pulls raking pleasure through his nerves. He bites his lip against the hunger gnawing in his gut, the urge to part her legs and taste her on his tongue, drive himself into the heaven in between her thighs, make her come again and again and again. He’s aching for her down to every atom in his body, muscles rigid with the effort of restraint.

She grazes teeth against his throat and hums a wanting noise, all the while working lavish touches up his cock. Pleasure winds out through his body, scorching coils dropping the pit of his gut. Her fingers shape the most exquisite tightness back down to his base, and the world spins around him, blurring into colored lights and the blue dark of night. 

She’s too beautiful, he thinks, drinking in the gentle features of her face, the blush that glows against her freckles, pink lips swollen from his kisses. He could stay here for a lifetime in the rapture of her touch, and then she’s biting at the bend between his shoulder and his neck, and the sharp sting of pain yanks him roughly toward climax.

He groans, ducking his head against her shoulder as his nerves string hot with pleasure. Gripping hard along her hips, he seethes a whine out through his teeth and fucks into her grasp, chasing the bliss of every wringing thrust. 

“_Logan_.” Her voice is low and teasing, rough with lust. She soothes her free hand up against his chest to feel the racing of his heart, her lips pressing affection at his jaw. “Baby, _please_…”

With a shivering gasp, he seizes into a tight arc and spills into her hand, coming in trails across her thighs, blinded by the lightning flickers of his climax. His head falls back, hips shoving hard against her at the waves and waves of pleasure aching through him, everything and blissful nothing all at once as he goes under.

The peak crests and rapidly starts to descend, and Logan is left panting in its wake, clinging to Mercy when his knees threaten to give beneath him. Aftershocks still twinge along his nerves, and he breathes out an exhausted laugh as she eases her nails down the nape of his neck. 

“Shit.” He blinks his vision into focus, reaching toward her thighs, where his cum sticks and glistens on her skin. “Let me get you clean.”

Lazily, she stops him, running a sated touch over her thighs, and he watches, fascinated, as she lifts to lick the taste of him from the tips of her fingers. Then she smiles, blushing under the awe in his gaze. “Okay,” she allows, and giggles when he showers loving kisses down her face. “Now you can clean me up.”

Logan puts her slowly back together, cleaning himself from her legs, refastening the thin straps of her dress. His fingers run the long tails of her braids, and he straightens errant tresses with the utmost care, savoring the soft warmth of her body heat.

When the music changes downstairs, mixing into another familiar beat, he can see the recognition dawn across her face, lips curling up into a dreamy smile.

“Wanna dance?” he teases, grinning.

“I _do _love this song.” She laughs, and sets a kiss against his cheek. “But after that? Baby, we can dance at home.”


End file.
